The Man in the Moss Read Online Free PDF Page A

sell it,' Shaw said simply.
            Liz laughed. 'To whom?'
            'Ter-ter-to an outside ... one
of the big firms.'
            'That's not an option,' Liz
said flatly. 'You know that. Beer's been brewed in Bridelow since time
immemorial. It's part of the local heritage.'
                'And still cer-could be! Sell it as a going concern. Why
not?'
                'And you could live with that, could you?'
                He didn't answer. Liz Horridge was shaking with
astonishment. She faced him like an angry mother cat, narrowing her eyes,
penetrating. 'Who's responsible for this? Who's been putting these thoughts in
your head?'
                'Ner-nobody.' But he couldn't hold her gaze. He was
wearing a well-cut beige suit over a button-down shirt and a strange leather
tie. He was going out again. He'd been going out a lot lately. He had no
interest in the brewery, and he wasn't even trying to hide this any longer.
                'And what about the pub? Is this fancy buyer going to
take that on as well?'
                'Ser-somebody will.' Shaw shrugged uselessly, backing
towards the door. 'Anyway, we'll talk about it later, I've got to ...'
                'Where are you going?'
                'I ... I'm ...' He went red and began to splutter. Pulled
out a handkerchief and blew his nose, wiped his lips. For years she'd worried
because he didn't go out enough, because he hadn't got a girlfriend (although
this had hardly been surprising). Now at last, at the age of thirty-one, he was
feebly groping for control of his own destiny ... and floundering about,
unbalancing everything .
                Liz Horridge turned away from him and walked to the other
window, the one with the view of Bridelow, which summer would soon obscure. She
could see the humped but still sprightly figure of Mrs Wagstaff in the
distance, lugging a shopping basket across the cobbles to Gus Bibby's General
Stores.
                Her breast heaved and she felt tears pumping behind her
eyes.
                Arthur ... it's not
my fault .
                Mrs Wagstaff stopped in the middle of the street and -
although it was too far away for Liz to be certain - seemed to stare up through
the trees at the Hall ... at this very window.
                As though the old girl had overheard Liz's thoughts. As
though she could feel the agony.
                When Liz turned around, wet-eyed, she found she was
alone; Shaw had quietly left the room.
               
    Although he'll be cool
enough when the Press and the radio and TV reporters interview him in a few
hours' time, the County Highways foreman is so shaken up right now that he has
to be revived with whisky from the JCB driver's secret flask.
                What he's discovered will come to be known as the
Bridelow Bogman. Or the Man in the Moss. Important people are going to travel
hundreds of miles to gaze with reverence upon its ancient face.
                'And what was your reaction when you found it?' asks one
of the reporters. 'What did you think it was?'
                'Thought it were a sack o' spuds or summat,' the foreman
says, quotably. His moment of glory. But out of his hands soon enough - so old
and so exciting to the experts, like one of them Egyptian mummies, that nobody
else seems to find it upsetting or horrifying, not like a real body.
                But, though he'll never admit it, the foreman reckons
he's never going to forget that first moment.
                'And what did you think when you realised what it was?'
                'Dunno, really ... thought it were maybe an owd tramp or
summat.'
                'Were you shocked?'
                'Nah. You find all sorts in this job.'
                But that night the foreman will dream